Frankenholo
by Butterfly Hippie
Summary: Part of a drabble series (coupled with a runaway plot bunny). Theme: Humor Me. The Doctor and Dr. Bashir are exhibited in Quark's freak show at the bar when a holographic experiment goes wrong. Rated T for one curse word.


"This is your fault, you know." Bashir grumbled as they were pulled up the steps to the small stage Quark had assembled for the nightly entertainment.

"My fault?!" The Doctor sputtered indignantly. "May I remind you that this was not my idea?"

"Oh well, _excuse_ me for wanting to enhance the health and safety of all of DS9's citizens!"

"Well, it was certainly a poor way to go about it." The Doctor mumbled under his breath, but Dr. Bashir, damn that enhanced hearing of his, heard anyway.

"You thought it was a good idea at the time!" he said incredulously. The Doctor prepared to fire back with a volley of witty retorts, but Quark cut him off.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls and morphs, welcome to Deep Space Nine's _first_ carnival freak show!" The crowd that had gathered applauded voraciously. Bashir caught sight of some of the usual bar patrons front and center, others he knew would never set foot in Quark's place without a good incentive, and still others he didn't recognize. They must've been travelers passing through the station when they heard about a one of a kind show premiering on Quark's stage that night.

"And now I present to you…" Quark roared over the din. "…a time honored Earth tradition coupled with an ancient legend dug deep out of human archives…"

_Quark was certainly laying it on thick_, Bashir thought ruefully, but before he had a chance to voice his opinion, the Ferengi master of ceremonies spoke the final word that sent the crowd into a frenzy.

"**_FRANKENHOLO!"_**

The curtain parted and the audience was greeted to a truly spectacular sight: a hybrid hologram. The hologram that appeared before them was a perfect blend, sporting the Doctor's limbs with Dr. Bashir's head looking rather out of place on top. The best part of all though, was that Bashir's head was totally, completely and undoubtedly bald, with not even the Doctor's usual sprinkling of hair to adorn it. As the crowd laughed and jeered, the poor Doctor reflected back on the events that had led to this moment.

It _had _been a good idea on Bashir's part, he grudgingly had to admit to himself. Inspired by the Doctor and his recent research on the EMH line of holographic programs, Bashir had come up with the idea to create a personal EMH program, exclusively for use on DS9. He still had the holographic template of himself from Louis Zimmerman's failed attempt at making him the face of the new Long-term Medical Hologram. A few minor adjustments and he would have a fully functioning program, perfect for backup when the CMO, namely himself, was sick, injured, abducted by the Dominion, or otherwise incapacitated. And he had allowed The Doctor, as a shining example of what an EMH could accomplish, to assist him in creating this new marvel.

Everything was going swimmingly. The two had accessed Louis Zimmerman's holographic prototype of Bashir with little trouble. But just as they were putting the finishing touches on the new hologram, and the holographic Bashir was staring about moodily, an explosion of light and noise rocked the holosuite. When the smoke cleared, a truly bizarre malfunction had occurred. Somehow, the two holographic programs had become fused; resulting in the marvel of a mistake that was currently on display for all of Quark's to see. And neither Dr. Bashir, nor the Doctor's mind, which was still wholly sound inside the freakish body, was happy about it.

"If we can just access the Infirmary computers," the Doctor had managed, once they got over the shock. "We can restore a backup copy of my program from the station database."

"Right." Bashir still looked shaken, but assumed a commanding air, as if he had any clue what he was doing. "Computer, transport the Doctor and myself to the Infirmary." The computer beeped in reply.

"_Unable to comply. Intra-station transporters are offline." _Bashir whirled around and began pacing.

"OK. If we _carefully_ sneak past Quark, we should be home free to make a run for the Infirmary before anyone notices."

"How in the world are we going to do that?"

"No idea. Let's go." Once again, it was an admirable plan, if not in practice. They had barely gotten three feet out the holosuite door before Quark spotted them, and the rest was history.

When Quark had enough of parading them about, the two made a dash for the Infirmary to restore the Doctor's backup module. Once everything and everyone was properly arranged again, the doctors stood back and surveyed each other critically.

"You know, Doctor." Bashir said, breaking the silence. "I think I could get used to having your limbs."

"Why thank you, Doctor." The hologram preened. "I believe I could get used to having your head on my shoulders as well."

"But I don't think either of us could ever be used to being bald."

"Oh, absolutely not! I'm extremely fond of what little hair I have."

And as two of Starfleet's finest doctors bonded over their shared fondness for hair, all across the station, Quark's customers were sowing the seeds of what had to be the juiciest piece of gossip Deep Space Nine had ever seen.


End file.
